


Aesthetics

by DoubleL27



Category: Schitt's Creek
Genre: Christmas Eve, F/M, Family Fluff, Gen, Holiday, M/M, Traditions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-11
Updated: 2020-01-11
Packaged: 2021-02-27 12:28:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,574
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22217050
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DoubleL27/pseuds/DoubleL27
Summary: “So explain this to me again,” David said, feeling the cringe happen even as he tried to stop it, his hand gesturing out to the side.Patrick looked up from where he crouched unpacking their suitcase loaded with presents at the foot of his childhood bed. “Uh, it’s a pretty simple tradition, David.”
Relationships: Clint Brewer/Marcy Brewer, Patrick Brewer/David Rose
Comments: 36
Kudos: 218





	Aesthetics

**Author's Note:**

  * For [returntosaturn](https://archiveofourown.org/users/returntosaturn/gifts).



> Jukebox prompt ⭐ Brewer fam + David get matching Christmas pajamas ⭐️ 
> 
> It’s a little late for Christmas, but I couldn’t resist. I hope this checks the boxes.

“So explain this to me again,” David said, feeling the cringe happen even as he tried to stop it, his hand gesturing out to the side. 

Patrick looked up from where he crouched unpacking their suitcase loaded with presents at the foot of his childhood bed. “Uh, it’s a pretty simple tradition, David.”

David felt his face move through a series of different facial expressions that he hoped weren’t too offensive. His hands began moving faster, along with the rest of his body and a forced chuckle escaped his lips. “Yeah, I mean, in a general way it is really simple, but in, like, a specific way it’s your mom picking out my pajamas and it’s not that your mom isn’t lovely, honey, it’s just that I have an aesthetic.”

David snapped his mouth shut like a dam trying to keep the torrent of words at bay. 

Patrick took out another package and moved it into another pile. “It’s pajamas for Christmas, David.”

“I know,” David whined, “but then you said we have to _wear_ them.”

Patrick stood, his hands on his hips and surveying his piles. “That’s why we get them on Christmas Eve, David.” Patrick turned to face him with a wide smile. “We change into our pajamas and my dad reads The Night Before Christmas. When I was little, we used to do hot cocoa, but now we add a little whiskey in it.”

“Which sounds super sweet but, again—“ David tried, while Patrick advanced on him. 

David instantly shot hands out to begin soothing the protective son feathers he ruffled as soon as Patrick was in reach. Patrick spoke in the commanding voice that David loved and David’s stokes became more languid, “You will smile, you will say _Thank You_ and you will not only wear them tonight, you will come down in them tomorrow morning for breakfast and presents while wearing them.”

“At like eleven?” 

Instead of earning him a deep chuckle or an eyeroll or an amused _Okay, David_ all that line got him was a tired sigh from Patrick. “David, I don’t think I ask a lot from you, but this is really important to my mom.”

“Okay.”

“Okay.” Patrick turned away and lifted up the smaller pile of presents before returning to David. “Now I am going to need you to take these downstairs and put them under the tree.”

David accepted the pile of gifts that he had very neatly wrapped with the premium paper from the store and headed for the door. Patrick Brewer was lucky that David very much loved his family and wanted to keep the Brewers happy. For anyone else, he wasn’t sure he could promise to be kind when receiving clothing from a woman who had an ugly sweater for every occasion that she wore unironically. 

~*~

Later that evening, they gathered in the living room. David and Patrick curled up on the couch, Patrick having worked his way under David’s arm and pressing their sides together, his head just above David’s heart. David had lowered his arm to lay along Patrick’s shoulders, his hand playing idly over Patrick’s upper arm. Clint sat in the high backed armchair upholstered with a faded fabric embroidered with a floral pattern, his tie discarded and his shirt unbuttoned two buttons, much like his son’s. Marcy joined them, her arms piled up with decorative boxes that towered over her. 

David found it sweet how both Clint and Patrick instantly moved to stand up to help. Clearly, it was a practiced move because Marcy just clucked at them both and they relaxed 

“No, don’t get up. I can carry some boxes that just have clothes in them.”

Marcy carefully placed the stack of boxes on the coffee table. They were the kind you would find in a craft store, decorated in a winter theme with birch branches and cardinals and white-tailed deer and gray filigree, and music notes. They were just the right shade of ridiculous and David loved Marcy Brewer a little more because they were not overly Christmasy. He could not say the same for her crochet Santa door knob covers but she hadn’t given them those. 

“Those are some fancy boxes, Mom,” Patrick observed in the quietly amused tone that meant he was ramping up to tease. 

Marcy didn’t even acknowledge her son, continuing on in a very practical tone. “Well, it’s a waste to use disposable packaging every year when we know what these will be.”

“What your mom means is that the bags she’s been using for the past ten years finally fell apart,” Clint teased, grinning at David and Patrick around Marcy’s back, in the same warm way his son does from his corner. 

“Clint.”

Clint startled and his head shot back to look at his wife. “What?”

“Take your box please,” she said, blandly, pivoting with a box in her hands. 

“Yes, ma’am.”

“You put names on them,” Patrick observed, his pale eyebrows raised. 

Marcy picked up one and held it out to Patrick, who sat up and left David’s side exposed. “That way they don’t get mixed up.”

“Aren’t they all the same?” Patrick asked. He took the box that had his name carefully written on it.

“Oh, honey,” Marcy said absently, moving a box to an empty chair. “I hem your pants every year. I wouldn’t want them mixed up. They’d come up to your father or David’s ankles.”

David pursed his lips to swallow his laugh, swiveling between looking at Patrick and his mom, who were staring at each other. Marcy broke off the stare first, picking up another box and holding it out to David while Patrick continued to stare at his mother. David reached out to take the box. 

“Thank you,” he said quietly, settling the box onto his lap. 

David stared down at the decorative box that had his name written in careful calligraphy on the top. He could hear Patrick from earlier that morning explaining how important this was to Marcy. He was going to need work on schooling his face to be the most respectful he could be, no matter what was inside the box. As it was, Marcy was beaming at them all, brimming with excitement much like Patrick did whenever they were doing something that bright him joy—it was almost tangible. 

“Alright, let’s open them.”

David flipped the magnetic closure on the edge of the box. Inside was a very tasteful pair of navy pajamas with white pinstripes running down them. The top was a button down and the pants had a nice drawstring. David pulled the pajamas out and felt the fabric, which was nice and soft. He had been expecting something especially christmasy and cringey but these were very tasteful and nice. 

“Do you like them?”

David looked up to see Marcy watching him carefully, a hopeful expression on her face while her gently polkadoted pair of pajamas rested on top of her box. He wondered what expression he had on his face and hoped it wasn’t anything awful. It was probably shock though, and David scrambled to find a genuine smile. 

“These are great.”

“We figured you wouldn’t love a Christmasy pair, knowing that you’re part Jewish and that Christmas isn’t your favorite holiday.” David shot a look at his husband who wouldn’t look back but played with his own pajama cuffs. “I thought these were nice.”

“They really are. We wore similar ones for Patrick’s high-school-slumber-party housewarming party, except they were solid.” David sent his mother-in-law a soft smile. “These are great.”

“Oh, I am so glad! Everyone go get changed,” Marcy ordered cheerfully, placing her own box on the floor and picking up her pajamas. 

_Thank you_ , Patrick mouthed at him. 

David shook his head, lips pursed. The Brewers has already started mounting the stairs when he took Patrick’s hand and pulled him back. “They’re really nice. I actually like them.”

“I know, David.” Patrick beamed at him like he hung the moon, David’s favorite dimple poking out. Patrick’s thumb ran over the tendons in the back of his hand and if this was what holidays with the Brewers would be like, with tasteful pajamas and soft smiles, David could live with it. 

Patrick ruined it a second later by affectionately stating,“You’re a terrible liar.”

“Well,” David said, sniffing carefully patting at the pjs. “They will add nicely to our collection for the Bert and Ernie aesthetic.”

“An important and well regarded aesthetic,” Patrick mocked sagely.

David sniffed again, but tucked Patrick’s hand into his elbow and headed for the stairs. “It is.”

They had made it halfway up to the second floor when David froze, Patrick stumbled as he went to take the next one and turned back to look at David. “Your mom is going to want a picture isn’t she?”

Patrick laughed loudly and pressed a kiss to the skin just behind David’s ear. David waited suspiciously as Patrick pulled back, his face filled with love and humor. “It’s funny that you think she’s going to want just _one_.”

he had followed Marcy on Facebook and he loved her pictures where she didn’t always notice if her eyes were half closed and the quotes he would find cheesy if anyone else wrote them. She would probably write something sweet about her family and her “sons” plural. 

Still.

“I get approval before anything goes up on social media,” David insisted. 


End file.
